


Heartsick

by poes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, depression writing, hanzo is wasted and homesick and jesse walks in on it, inspired by a twitter convo, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 18:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poes/pseuds/poes
Summary: Some nights Hanzo checks back in on Hanamura via Google Maps after getting incredibly drunk. One night, Jesse walks in.--"Lotta ppl gloss over Hanzo's homesickness. He probably goes on google streets when he's deadass drunk to check what's changed in Hanamura."Inspired by a Twitter convo w a friend! Thanks Seiz!





	Heartsick

It’s 4:53 am when Jesse catches him.

The archer is slumped back in his chair, one hand on the wireless mouse for his laptop and the other draped lazily over the arrmrest. His eyes are half-lidded, and when Jesse opens the door, the floral smell of _sake_ curls appealingly across the room.

He doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening beyond tilting his head a little to the side to eye Jesse out of his peripheral. When he sees who it is, he snorts, and turns back to his laptop, unperturbed.

It’s late, or early, depending on who you are.

There’s some kind of something between the two of them. Hanzo had decided to stay with Overwatch a few months ago. He’d been here longer than that, silent and angry and only reacting with anything besides glaring when Genji entered the room. Anti-social, rude, less likely to warn you before he just snapped and clawed out at you. Quiet one moment and shouting the next. He was a timebomb.

Jesse had hated him, at first. Mean, _spiteful_ man. The man that’d hurt Genji all those years ago, made him into what he was now. He didn’t deserve to be here.

But Genji had asked him, once, in the lowlight of an evening after a spat between the cowboy and the archer had escalated into a grappling match. Jesse, hair mussed from where Hanzo had grabbed it and shoved, clothes loosened and untucked, sporting a split lip. But more than that, in possession of the memory of the look on Hanzo’s face when Genji had come to break them up.

Anger, of course. But more than that, shame. Embarrassment. Disappointment, but turned inward.

Maybe that’s why Jesse had listened when Genji’s hand touched his forearm.

“Please, Jesse,” he’d murmured, serious, his brown eyes weary. “Please… you’re my best friend. I understand… that you may be angry with him. Of course you are. But… for me… can you please just give him a chance?” He’d turned his head, eyed the table. “I’m still… working on forgiving him, as well, though I have told him otherwise. It would be easier… if you did not put me in this position.” He’d looked up, at him, and Jesse had sighed through his nose and known he’d lost.

So he’d apologized. Hanzo had, stiffly and under the eye of his brother, apologized as well.

And then somehow things started changing.

Things that led to him walking in on Hanzo at nearly 5 in the morning after he missed their meetup in the training room.

It wasn’t official or nothin’. He just apparently had a habit of walking in on Hanzo doing things, he guessed. Shooting arrows at the training bots. Headshotting them one by one. Focusing on one and shooting arrow after arrow into it until the poor little thing’s limbs were all pierced before Hanzo finally dealt the killing blow. The panting of exertion afterward as he stared at the desecrated robot.

He’d jumped when Jesse had whistled, whirling with another arrow nocked before realizing who it was.

Similarly, he’d snorted then, too, and turned back around, but when Jesse had showed up again the next night, he’d been there, pretending like he wasn’t expecting Jesse to show up.

And so… that had started. It's become a habit, is all. Part of the routine.

Jesse hadn’t actually meant to barge in on him. Just came by to see if he was in his room, and, hearing soft music playing from inside, had decided to peek his head in to say hello.

Funnily enough, it’d been Jesse that insisted Hanzo not be able to lock his door, when he’d first arrived. _Safety purposes._ Now it just meant that Hanzo had no chance to clean himself up before Jesse walked closer.

“... Hey,” he greets, since Hanzo obviously wasn’t gonna speak up.

“Cowboy,” Hanzo replies, quietly, his hand silently moving the mouse and clicking. Jesse wasn’t much for prying, but he glances up before he can stop himself.

The view of a small, clean marketplace sits on the screen. Pictures of people frozen in the monotony of their daily chores, some laughing, some mid-word, others just blurs as they’re caught in movement. Hanzo’s hand moves slightly again and he clicks once more; the scene changes, slightly further down the street.

Abruptly, Jesse realizes he’s using one of those street-walking apps. And, as Hanzo clicks the little side-arrow in the corner of the screen to reveal a canopy of cherry blossom trees, Jesse makes a safe bet on where he’s looking.

He doesn’t need to wonder for long.

“Cowboy,” Hanzo says again, softly slurred with the alcohol that smells stronger here, closer, “where are you from?”

Jesse blinks, staring down at Hanzo, who doesn’t meet his gaze. The bowman’s grey eyes look hazy and tired with the reflection of Hanamura glowing across them. His hair is loose, mussed and just brushing his shoulders. Jesse knows Hanzo doesn’t sleep much, but this… this is more than he’d ever thought he’d see of it. The weariness in his shoulders, how he doesn’t look up even though he must feel himself being watched. It’s almost enough to embarrass Jesse, if he were the type to be demure.

Hanzo never asks personal questions. Even deflects them when they're directed at him. Snarls and leaves when Jesse poked too hard.

The silent air of the room waits expectantly, and Hanzo clicks again, moving further down Hanamura’s streets.

After a moment, Jesse clears his throat and pushes a smile on his face. “That’d kinda take away some of my mystery, wouldn’t it?”

Hanzo snorts, clicking more aggressively. “I only asked to be polite. I know where you’re from. Close to the America-Mexico border, yes? I believe New Mexico was where you were found.” He glances over, looks at Jesse’s chest, and then back to the screen. Still not meeting eyes. “I researched everyone before deciding to stay here. Your mystery is not safe from me.” A flicker of his smugness reaches Hanzo’s lips before it’s gone again, settling back into drunken melancholy.

Jesse swallows, the smile falling from his face. He wets his lips and scratches his chin, awkwardness falling between them before he pushes forward. “... Fair enough. And you’re from—”

“Hanamura,” Hanzo finishes for him, glazed eyes roving over the screen, “yes. My home.” He sinks further into his chair. His lids droop heavy; his dark eyelashes paint soft shadows on his cheekbones. “Or it was, once. I have not truly visited in many years.”

He clicks and the scene moves forward. The screen moves out of the marketplace now, onto a quieter street. The street is paved in gray stones, lined in pink from fallen petals. Two children are blurry in the corner, one holding a smudge that kind of resembles a cat. Hanzo pauses his clicking and looks at the image. He sighs, so softly it’s barely audible.

“I used to walk here,” he murmurs. “When I was younger. Stray cats hide here.” He touches the screen, to another smudge that Jesse supposes is a side alley. “Sometimes I gave them the remains of whatever I was eating.”

He falls silent, and Jesse shifts from foot to foot, feeling out of place. He shouldn’t have walked in here while Hanzo was having this… _moment_ , or whatever it was. Hearing about Hanamura pokes at something mean in him, something that wants to bring back the anger from when Hanzo had first come here, but seeing the way the archer is looking at that little side alley cools the heat in him.

He inhales. If he’s here already, he guesses he better make sure the guy doesn’t doze off in his chair.

“You fed stray cats?” in an incredulous voice is, unfortunately, the first thing that pops out of him, but Hanzo just snorts in an amused manner.

“Yes,” he sighs, “I did.” His head lolls to one side. “... You can leave, McCree. I do not need or want you here. Go train by yourself.”

Jesse feels something recoil in him. If he were a decade younger, he’d spit a ‘good riddance’ and walk right out.

But he recognizes the tone in his voice; the tone of a man that’s used to spending his grieving alone. He glares at Hanzo, stung, but now that he’s kind of grown to tolerate the guy…

His heart won’t just let him walk out.

Annoyed with himself, he shakes his head and leans against the desk Hanzo’s laptop is on. “Nah, I wanna hear about Hanamura from the eyes of a fella who lived there. I’ve been once or twice, but… always on _business_ , ya know. Ain’t no fun when you can’t eat what you want and chase the tail you see, you know? ‘Least for a 20-year-old punk like yours truly was.”

Hanzo finally turns his head to meet eyes with Jesse, squinting as disbelief flickers over his face. “You have been in Hanamura?”

“Yep.”

“Impossible. I would have heard about a ridiculous, loud-mouthed foreigner ‘chasing tail’ in my city,” Hanzo replies, but there’s a glint of life in his eyes that encourages Jesse not to squash the undertone of humor in the archer’s tone.

“ _Your_ city, huh? Well, I can’t say I didn’t hear about the _Shimada Clan_. Commander told me to steer clear of mentions of y’all’s name, that you were a buncha assholes.” He examines his nails. “All these years later and he was right.”

Hanzo puffs and looks away, jaw working as he clearly decides whether or not to take the insult seriously or not. He seems to settle into humor, though, and Jesse thanks god for alcohol. “Only _most_ of us are assholes,” he mutters, and clicks again, moving further down the path. “If you’re going to stay, stop being rude.”

“Me? _Rude?_ ”

Hanzo cuts him a look and then points at the screen, where a little shop with a huge, googly-eyed something-or-other on the top sits. “If you did not eat here… you did not eat… Hanamura.” He blinks, slow-like and thoughtful.

Jesse examines the brightly-lit shop with its little animal mascot and loud lettering.

“Don’t really seem like your kinda place.”

“I... ate there often, in my youth. With…” he trails off, and then points at the creature. “He used to hate this thing, until I agreed that it was terrible. Then he bought all the little… memorabilia… t-shirts, a visor… even a stuffed animal of it. He kept it on his bed.” Hanzo stares for a heavy moment, and then reaches over and grabs his bottle of sake, taking a long pull of it.

Jesse stares, too, considering. “... What _is_ it?”

“I have no living idea,” Hanzo rasps. “A… dinosaur… dragon… alien?”

“... It’s kinda cute.”

_“Don’t.”_

Jesse laughs at the vehemence in Hanzo’s voice. The archer glares at him, more blatantly than he normally does, and the exaggerated expression makes Jesse snicker all the harder.

“Foolish man. You have no taste after all,” Hanzo hisses after a second, and clicks the mouse forcefully, moving past the ramen place. “Do not _giggle_ in my bedroom.”

“Don’t pout like a kid then!”

“I’ll… get out of this chair. And _make_ you leave. I do not need my weapons or my sobriety,” Hanzo snipes back, pulling himself higher in his seat and smoothing his hair back as if to prove a point. Jesse lifts his hands in placation, hiding his smirk behind them, until Hanzo sinks back into his seat.

As Hanzo lets a smirk pass over his face, too, Jesse wonders just how tanked he is, to even be telling Jesse any of this shit, let alone joking around with him a little. He wonders, faintly, if Hanzo will remember any of this in the morning. He watches Hanzo click a few more times, mind silent, until Hanzo looks at him and must notice.

“Pay attention,” Hanzo snaps, punching him in the arm with more force than probably intended. (Probably.) “Or leave!”

“Sorry!”

Hanzo sneers and turns back to his screen, pointing. “You see?”

Jesse redirects his attention, to the gates of a courtyard, now. On the front are two dragons, eating each other’s tails. He frowns.

“Same symbol as the one on your outfit,” he says, making the connection easily.

“The gates to Shimada Castle,” Hanzo slurs, and taps the dragons. “No cameras are allowed inside, of course, but I remember it without… this.” He gestures to the laptop like it’s personally insulted him and closes his eyes. “It… always smelled like spring… and when it became cold… a step outside was like the breath… the breath you take when you come above water. It was peaceful, despite the practices that took place inside. Sometimes the stray cats found their way into the garden. We never knew how, but I suspect… I suspect they had an accomplice within the walls.” Hanzo tilts his head towards Jesse, and opens them halfway, eyes dark against the contrast of the laptop-light on his face.

Jesse stares openly, and Hanzo searches him for a long moment before something flickers behind his irises. For the briefest moment, it’s like all the ice in Hanzo is gone, and what’s left behind is an emptiness neither of them know how to address.

“I miss it,” Hanzo murmurs. “I can never return. I wish I could, but... it will never be as it once was. These memories are only that. Memories.” The archer’s eyes close again and he turns away, sitting up in his seat and rubbing a hand across his face wearily.

“Pathetic,” he continues, “I am unworthy of returning there. It does not belong to me, and perhaps it should never have. Sometimes…” Hanzo trails off, and turns as if suddenly remembering who he’s speaking to. The ice returns almost visibly as Hanzo straightens his spine and pushes the hair away from his face. He points, pokes Jesse in the little hollow under his throat. “You. Why are you still here?”

Jesse blinks. “Pardon?”

“ _Whhhhy_ are you still here? I am speaking your language. Do not _pardon_ me. Answer me!” Hanzo’s eyes are dark and angry, suddenly, and now there is something of what Jesse expected of a drunk Hanzo. Maybe the buzz is wearing off; it might actually be smarter to bail out while he’s still got one hand attached.

Unfortunately, ‘bailing out’ wasn’t really Jesse’s style, and he meets eyes with the archer, frowning.

“You didn't tell me to leave. You just gave me an out.”

Hanzo sneers. “So? Why did you listen to me prattle on? Did you come to laugh at me? Mock me? You, with your…” He squints. “ Your… visiting me… searching for weaknesses as you spy on my training—”

Jesse scoffs loud enough to cut Hanzo off, and pushes his hat further down on his head. “Hot damn, you’re maybe the most paranoid sonuvabitch I’ve ever met.” He thinks of Reyes and frowns. “Well, second most. I wasn’t _spyin’_ on ya, you prick. If you’re gonna be hanging around here... might as well try to learn how you fight. See if we can coordinate our shit or whatever. Not like you hang out with anyone else.”

“I do not _hang out_ with you,” Hanzo replies, vehemently. “I do not _hang out_ with anyone!”

“Can you fuckin’ take a chill pill for 5 seconds?” Jesse snaps, and Hanzo suddenly pushes to his feet, stumbles up to him. He glares up at Jesse and Jesse glares back, and for a long moment, they’re just staring each other down, jaws locked and teeth grit.

Jesse doesn’t realize he was waiting for a punch until it doesn’t come. Hanzo backs down, laughing low and loud and unlike him as he half-falls over to his bed and sits down.

“Genji talked to you,” Hanzo slurs, “that is what happened. You are here out of obligation. I see! I see you, cowboy, with your… tricks. Sitting here with me in the dark… ha!” Hanzo wipes his face with both hands and laughs more, angry, but beneath it, with a wobble that makes some of the aggression seep out of Jesse.

He’d laughed that same laugh too many times.

“So what,” Hanzo says, looking up at him. “Will you…” And there it is, the wobble. Jesse bets it’s normally much easier to hide, but with every movement Hanzo makes, a fresh wave of alcohol hits the air. “Will you… go and report to him? Tell him what I… vomited thoughtlessly here in this room? My lockless bedroom?”

And Jesse honestly wonders if he will. If he would. If Genji needed to know about this. His brain says yes, that maybe Genji could use this as a way to get close to Hanzo again.

But before his brain can catch up, his heart speaks up first. “Nah, Hanzo. This was private. I shouldn’t’a walked in on you like this. No one sent me… I just wondered where you were. Not as productive training without you.”

Hanzo glares up at him, swaying from his seated position, and blows a noise between his lips. “No locks,” he repeats, looking away.

Jesse sighs softly and rubs his nape. “Yeah, I’ll… look, I’ll talk to Winston about that. I don’t think you’re gonna try any shit.”

The archer looks up at him again, smugness forcing its way onto his face. “What? You trust me now? I could kill you all while you sleep, and plan it all in this room. Behind my _locked doors.”_

There is a moment of silence between them, Hanzo defiant and Jesse calculating.

But Jesse turns, and starts heading out, shrugging one shoulder. “You won’t,” he replies easily.

Hanzo is silent behind him.

When the door opens, Jesse turns back. Hanzo is watching him intently, eyes immediately on Jesse’s, dark gray and suddenly sharp with intelligence.

“... Maybe Genji would like to hear this shit from you, instead,” Jesse offers.

The archer _tchs_ under his breath and fists the comforter under his hands. He gives Jesse a once-over and tilts his head back, lip curling. “Don’t talk to me about my brother. Not now.” His eyes go half-lidded again, and exhaustion seems to seep into his bones in front of him. He waves a hand. “Go away, McCree. Let me sleep away this idiocy and the thoughts it brings.”

Jesse eyes him for a minute longer, and then turns, leaving the archer to his dreams and pulling out his phone.

Guess he isn’t training tonight. Might as well find something else to do.

 

* * *

 

When Jesse approaches Hanzo the next day, the archer looks none the worse for wear; meticulous, stand-offish, hair tied in a perfect knot and the bags under his eyes miraculously gone. He’s wearing green, today.

He glares at Jesse when he sits across from him in his usual meditating spot on Gibraltar, and again, Jesse wonders if Hanzo even remembered the night before.

His question is answered when Hanzo turns his head away and mutters a quiet “If you say _one_ word to me…”

Jesse grins at him, and automatically scoots closer, holding out his phone. “Nah, I was just wondering if… you’d wanna like… I dunno. Hear about that place ‘close to the border’ you seem so knowledgeable about.” He scratches his chin and shows Hanzo the same little map app he’d been using last night.

Hanzo frowns at him, narrows his eyes. “Why do you think I care?”

Jesse shrugs. “Just an offer.”

Hanzo stares, and then turns his head away. “No.”

Jesse feels a twinge of unexpected disappointment, until Hanzo adds, “it’s only fair if you are intoxicated.”

The cowboy smirks, and tucks the phone back in his pocket. “That can be arranged.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> end dumb, immediately-in-love jesse that puts up with hanzo's temper without complaint! end shy demure hanzo that acts like one pet name will get him swooning! end them!
> 
> it feels like cheating to write mchanzo without addressing the clear barrier between them that would be genji so here we are with the endless exposition! 
> 
> sorry this isn't super cute or anything it was a #depressionfic. if it gets some attention though i might add a second part with mccree showing hanzo where he grew up or something along those lines.
> 
> thanks for reading! i'll get to the talon!hanzo au fic soon!


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